I've been off the radar for a few weeks not really by choice. Post surgery was not the staycation I expected.
Aside from not being able to paint, write or exercise, I couldn't even tie-up my own hair. It's unsettling being so dependent. Don't get me wrong, the surgery was a choice and my inability is temporary. Still...I felt unsettled. Frustrated. Cranky.
I might sound really negative right now but I don't feel it. I'm pleased to be blowing off these cobwebs and actually putting down a few thoughts. I'm not a one-handed robot after all! Moving, using brain juices and speaking to someone helps when I'm feeling flat. I'll be calling my shrink as soon as I get home to make an appointment.
You know how doing things with children takes twice as long as they normally would? Well, that was me and then some after surgery. For a quick-moving lady, this was torture. I had so many things I wanted to do but could not.
One example is the commissioned artwork I have to finish for a dear friend in Buffalo. It's been hand-stretched, primed and has its first layer of paint. It's like an airplane that's been sitting on the runway for three weeks. I worry about momentum, I worry there is no one left in the cockpit.
Overthinking it I'm sure, but still. Anxiety- it likes to pay me a visit.
Finding time to paint in real life is hard enough as it is. People often ask me how I do it- and I'll tell you- it's not a magic formula. It involves $cash money$ for childcare. So on days where motivation is lacking, the pressure is on financially and emotionally.
So yeah, the last few weeks with visiting helpers, surgery, and recovery I felt my momentum sputter and fail.
If you don't feel bad for me already what I'm going to say next might make you want to punch me in the face. (Just let me complain a little bit, we're friends right?)
I'm writing a blog post for the first time in several weeks from an empty beach on my iPhone. Not the easiest thing to do without a keyboard and with a bum hand but it feels good. And did I mention I'm on a beach? #firstworldproblems
Get this though- despite the practically empty shore, there are these two sets of parents who are literally talking over me. They both have sons named Nate and they both get really pissed off when people ask if it's short for Nathaniel. It's just Nate- ok everyone?? Deal with it. People have turned a nickname into a full name. Besides, Dad no.1 really thinks it sounds sportier that way.
I know, I know, I'm on the beach. My daughter is occupied. I'm WRITING for the first time in weeks. I should be so lucky but I feel like these people are interrupting my mojo. Like when you're in the bedroom with hubby and the baby starts crying. Quit messing with my flow 'Nate's' parents!
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| Moments after Nate's parents left. Go talk over a seagull next time! |
To prove my new, more positive state, I'll tell you something positive. While down here on the Penninsula I came across an awesome (and reasonably priced) Arts and Crafts Market called Flock of Seagulls in Rye. It's such a lovely place to treasure-hunt or have a coffee. We went there at least once every day.
Anyway- they rent out space to local artists and vendors (I bought two dresses, a weaving, and a pillow cover) a woman who works there took my business card. I left the market and later received a message from her saying that she took a look at my site, loves my work and would make room for me any time. What a massive compliment! What a mood boost!
So even though I'm coming out of a funk now I feel happy. I know that painting and telling stories are part of my stress relief, part of who I am. Knowing this gives me back a little of my power (and hopefully some jet fuel).
